Make This Go on Forever
Title: Make This Go on Forever (part 6 )
Author:
callalily_love
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If I owned these characters, they’d be walking around naked 24/7. Well, maybe just Alex and Mark.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Help Me Breathe (Pain in My Heart)
“I know you’re scared. Breathe deeper and don’t be afraid to let out your pain.”
She’s still resting on his chest, and neither of them has said anything for quite some time. She keeps opening and closing her mouth, but the actual words elude her. She feels like she should say something, anything, but maybe she doesn’t need to. He reaches a hand down to smooth her hair, and waves of content wash over her when his arms tighten around her.
It’s overwhelming that she can lay there, wrapped in his arms, and feel secure enough not to speak post-coital. Still, she listens to the rise and fall of his chest, and wonders if she should say something. Everything has happened incredibly fast. Her marriage was far from over, but she had somehow ended up in bed with her husband’s best friend. The following week she was at his doorstep in tears, and now, tonight, her legs are intertwined with his, and she’s gently running her fingertips along his shoulder. It’s scary, she thinks, how quickly life moves.
Her fingers stop moving when his arms move off her back and to her elbows, gently tugging on her. She’s a little surprised, but allows him to pull her up until she’s fully on top of him. She smiles and briefly presses her lips against his before settling beneath his chin.
His arms return to rest on her back, and he notices the rigidity in her body.
“Hey.” He whispers, gently stroking her cheek with his knuckles. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” She murmurs quietly, tensing even more.
“You can tell me, you know.” He cups her face with both his hands, forcing her to look at him. “And I have seen you naked, so it’s not like there’s anything to hide now.” He smirks, and she giggles. He smiles wider, because seeing her happy makes him feel like he’s doing something right.
“Addie?” He prompts, gliding his thumbs across her cheekbones. She closes her eyes at the sensation of his touch.
Her eyes flutter open when his fingers still. “You, uh, you said you had feelings for me before we slept together.” She says quickly and waits for confirmation.
“Yeah.” He leans up and kisses her forehead.
“How…how long before?”
“A couple of years, I guess.”
She stares at him for a second, blinking furiously, and feels her throat tighten. She buries her face into his neck. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He murmurs, tightening his arms around her when she sighs.
“For not noticing.”
“I didn’t expect you to.” He insists. “You were with Derek.”
She swallows hard. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“You were married, Addie. What was I supposed to do?” He murmurs, almost bitterly, and she silently thinks, are. “Besides, even if I had said something, would you have really acted on it?”
“No, I guess not.” She sighs, trying to think of what to say. “But I…I’m glad I’m here, Mark. Really glad.”
He smiles and lowers his head to kiss her. She moans softly against his lips, and rolls off of him.
“Good night.” She whispers, reaching up to timidly run her fingers down his jawbone. She turns away from him, and after nervously contemplating for a moment, wriggles backwards until her body is curled against his.
He drapes his arm over her waist, immediately calming her nerves. He leans over to kiss the side of her mouth before settling back in. “Night, Addie. And I’m glad you’re here too.”
~*~*~*~*~
She wakes up early the next morning, and his arm is still wrapped around her. She’s always been an early riser, even on the days when it’s okay to sleep in. Years of morning classes and early rounds had knocked her biological clock back a few hours.
Her body stiffens when she feels his breath on her neck. I’ve been separated for ten days, she thinks. Derek’s been gone for more than a week.
It’s hard for her to accept that he’s not coming back. The whole thing with Mark isn’t making any of this easier either. She thinks she has feelings for him, but still…it’s confusing. I’m definitely attracted to him, she considers, and the sex is good, but am I honestly falling for him or just think I am because he cares about me?
Rather than ponder the recent complications of her life (or maybe her heart), she lifts his arm ever so slightly, and eases out of his grasp without him stirring. She rises off the bed, nearly groaning at the tension in her shoulders and back.
She stares at the clothes scattered all over the floor. “Jesus, Mark.” She mumbles.
She plucks her panties off the floor, but the rest of her attire is nowhere in sight. She wriggles into a shirt of his in the meantime, and continues her quest for her missing clothes. She toes around the room quietly, but a creaky floorboard causes him to rouse. Damn it.
“What are you doing?” He murmurs.
“Looking for my clothes.” She lifts a few of his shirts up, and drops them in quiet frustration.
He blinks several times before the numbers on his bedside clock come into focus. “At six in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying to get dressed,” she grins, pleased at her maneuvering skills when she finds her shirt, “and amid the hurricane that consists of your clothes, I can’t seem to find any of my own.”
“Just come back to bed.”
“But I’m awake.” She protests, shooting a glare in his direction.
“Well I’m not, so unless you can think of a better way to keep me awake than complaining about the current state of my apartment, I’m going back to sleep.”
“Mark - ” She loses her train of thought when she eyes her pants.
“Just give me one more hour.” He closes his eyes and rests his hands behind his head.
“Well, I’m going then.” She tugs her pants on, and spots her heels near the bedroom door.
“Where?” his eyes flap open and he leisurely sits up, planting his feet on the floor.
“I have to get my stuff.” She murmurs distractedly as he reaches for a pair of boxers.
“Your stuff?”
“If you want me to live with you, I’m going to need to get my stuff.” The irritation in her voice is present, but he chooses to ignore it.
“I know, but right now? Just wait a little bit. Let’s eat something, and then - ”
“I didn’t ask you to go with me.” She replies coldly.
“You don’t want me to help?”
“No.”
“Well then how are you going to get there?”
“I’ll call a cab, and I’ll drive my car back here.”
“But all your stuff - ”
“I’ll take care of it. I don’t want your help.” The anger in her tone of voice is startling even to her.
“Fine, then I won’t help you. If you’re going to be in a bitchy mood, don’t stomp around loud enough to wake me up next time.”
“Good.” She smiles in satisfaction. “I like you better this way.”
“What way?”
“No feelings.”
“That’s the real Mark Sloan, I guess.” He stands up in aggravation, but there is also a hint of disappointment in his voice. He isn’t a bad guy. So what if before her he slept with half the women on the Upper East Side? That doesn’t make him a bad guy. And the terrible bedside manner, sexual innuendos, and the rare display of emotion? It doesn’t make him a bad guy. He’s just a misunderstood guy, who constantly falls plague to the justification of “he’s Mark.” If people would just give him a chance to explain himself, rather than making their initial judgments, he probably would act differently.
“I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Okay.” He mumbles. He watches as she heads out of his bedroom, and he quickly tugs on shirt and follows her out.
“Addie.” He says when she turns the handle of his front door. He watches as her shoulders slump down.
“Yeah?” She replies softly.
“What’s wrong?” the sincerity of his voice makes her eyes water.
“Nothing.” Her grip tightens on the handle.
“Are you mad at me?” He takes a few more steps until he is right behind her.
“Why would I be mad at you?” She answers hollowly.
“I don’t know, but it seems like you are.”
“Well, I’m not.” She twists the knob, but before she can step out, he wraps his arms around her waist. She inhales sharply, trying to relax.
“Then what’s the matter?” He rests his chin on her shoulder and glances at her.
“Nothing. Stop asking.” She murmurs through clenched teeth when her eyes continue to water and her cheeks redden.
“Then stop lying.” He argues.
“I just, I need to go get my stuff.” She exhales slowly. “Please, Mark.”
“Okay.” He sighs in defeat, reaching around her to open her door. “Call me though, if you need anything.”
“I will.” She whispers and places her hands over his to wrench them off her waist.
“Addie.” He covers her own hands before she can pull his away. “I mean it, if you need anything at all, just call.”
She nods numbly, and heads out the door.
~*~*~*~*~
She slowly steps into the brownstone, and it’s no different than it was two nights ago when she last left it. She was hoping for a sign, anything - a magazine left on the end table, an open window, or the television on - that might have confirmed Derek had stopped home.
Everything is exactly the same, though it no longer feels like home. Stop it, she chides when tears start to spill down her cheeks, crying isn’t going to help.
She gathers her things as quickly as she can, carelessly stuffing them into her suitcases. She takes a deep breath before heading upstairs, and delicately carries her shoes and designer clothing out to her car. On her final trip, with a pair of Prada heels and Chanel sunglasses in hand, she glances at their bed, and starts to really cry. The bed was eleven years old - the entire span of their marriage. She had frequently changed the sheets on the bed, alternating between flannel and paisley, but the bed had remained the same. She’d woken up in that bed for so many years, and it was the sole reminder of the aspects of their marriage. There had been cuddling, waking up aside one another, joking, and love making in that bed. Towards the end, one side of the bed often remained empty, and adultery, of course, was the final act that took place.
Addison makes her way down stairs, and locks the front door behind her, murmuring a soft, “good bye.” She knows she’ll return eventually, because there are at least a dozen pairs of Jimmy Choo pumps and Dolce and Gabbana tops that are getting left behind, but it still seems so final. The last third of her life has fallen out of her grasp.
She takes a deep breath, and wipes at her tears with the back of her hand. They’d had a life together. They had hopes and dreams, goals and plans, and she’d shattered them.
~*~*~*~*~
When she pulls up at Mark’s apartment complex, she’s surprised to see him waiting out on the steps for her.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting, unless of course you want to bring all this stuff up by yourself.” He replies, and his tone almost comes out callous, but he keeps his voice even when he notices her red eyes.
She nods in response, and grabs at the nearest suitcase. “You can start with my shoes. They’re in the trunk.”
He gathers several boxes in his arms, glancing back at her as they make their way up the steps. She has a suitcase in each hand, and her head is down in defeat.
“Addison - ”
“I’m fine.”
~*~*~*~*~
Once everything is inside, they stand back to stare at the pile in front of them in his living room.
“I’ll take it from here.” She decides.
“Why are you so insistent on not letting me help?”
“Because I’m not just going to throw my stuff anywhere. It’s has to have an order, some structure.” She replies, grabbing a few boxes of shoes and some skirts. “At least something in my life needs to.”
“Alright.” He sighs, deciding not to press her on it, but notices the plastic bag containing heaps of damaged couture. “And I thought I needed to do laundry.”
She follows his gaze. “Yeah, well there’s probably no point in taking them in to the cleaners. They got to spend a rainy night on the street.” She makes her way towards his bedroom.
“What?” He asks, as he follows her towards the bedroom. He’s carrying some of her clothes, despite her instructions not to help. She steps into his walk-in closet before answering him.
“Derek threw them outside the night he walked in on us.” She shrugs and busies herself with rearranging her shoes.
“Why?”
“Um, maybe because he had just walked in and found his two best friends screwing.” She murmurs, agitation rising. It was times like this, when he wouldn’t just drop it, that she really started to hate herself.
“So he has the time to throw your clothes out the door, but he can’t take the time to actually talk to you?”
“Something to that effect.” She mumbles, standing up to hang her Yves Saint Laurent suit on the rack.
“Did he do anything else?”
She sighs and turns around to face him. Yes, Mark. He told me to get out of his house. I sat down on the bottom step of the stairs, because people who love each other don’t quit. They work things out. I dug into those steps because I wasn’t going anywhere. But then he grabbed me, pulled me outside, and shut the door in my face. I stood out there for the longest ten seconds of my life, wearing his CBGB shirt and my panties. It was raining, cold, and devastating. He let me back in, and I walked right into his arms. He wrapped his around me, but I couldn’t do the same. Mine were up in the air in surrender because I was so scared to touch him and hurt him more. I told him I was sorry and I asked for the chance to show him how sorry I was. But he looked at me and felt nauseas. We didn’t survive it; we didn’t get through it; we didn’t have a chance. He walked away. “No.” She says forcefully, grabbing a Gucci pencil skirt from his hands and finding a place for it aside his dress pants.
“Really?” He crosses his arms, not at all convinced. Oh crap.
“Really.” She murmurs, turning around and concentrating on organizing her shoes. Casadei heels here, Manolo Blahnik stilettos on the left, Stuart Weitzman shoes on the right.
“Addison, I know you don’t want me to ask, but…are you okay?”
She keeps her back to him. No. I am not okay. So not okay. What have I done? I cheated on my husband. How could I have slept with his best friend? I’m a horrible person. I threw my entire life away because I was a little lonely, which in no way justifies what I - what we - did. I was vulnerable and you were there and he wasn’t. And now I’m living with you and you’re saying and doing the most endearing things, and that almost makes it worse because I don’t deserve it. Adulteresses don’t deserve anything pleasant. And he’s gone. He really left me, and it’s still so hard to believe he isn’t coming back. I’m still wearing my rings, and we’re still married, even though we’re separated. I don’t know what to do anymore. Should I call him? Go look for him? Turn my back on the last third of my life? And the fact that I have feelings for you isn’t making this any easier. How are we going to make this work? You make me happy but still…the pain won’t subside. I don’t want to suffer anymore, but it’s constant. And I hate that you can see it. I’m not even looking at you right now, but I know you see it - the trembling shoulders and clenched fists. You see the damage, how much it still hurts, and I hate it.
“I’m okay.” She whispers, slowly standing up. “I just need…” she lets her voice trail off, and makes her way over to him. She wraps her arms around his neck, and turns her cheek into his chest.
His arms immediately secure around her, pulling her closer. He doesn’t say anything, because he knows that isn’t what she needs. She doesn’t need words or reassurances. She just needs someone to hug her, be there for her.
“I’m not mad at you, Mark.” She offers quietly.
“I know.” He replies. He continues to hold her, and slowly moves his hands up and down her back. She isn’t crying, she’s just…sad. It’s understandable of course, but he hates it, and wishes there was something he could do to make the pain go away.
And he suddenly feels a twinge of anger towards Derek. How could he ignore her? How could he just stop caring about her? How could he ever go more than a day without telling her how much he loved her? And clearly, something else happened that night in the brownstone, but it’s also apparent that she doesn’t want to talk about it. He won’t force her to talk about it, just like for now, he won’t ask if she’s considering drawing up divorce papers or removing her rings. It’s not fair to her, though maybe it’s not fair to him either.
She allows herself to take pleasure in the protective feeling of being in his arms and the comfortable touch of her cheek against his broad chest. If only everything could be this easy - closely pressed against one another, without saying anything, with time standing still. She takes a deep breath. Things will never stay this easy. “I can’t do it.” She whispers.
“Do what?” He pulls back, but she won’t look at him.
She swallows the lump in her throat, but takes a shaky breath. She isn’t sure how to answer him, because she isn’t sure what she means. She can’t accept that her marriage is over, and she can’t accept that she might be falling for someone else. She just wants the pain to go away, but she’s worried that they won’t be able to make it work, that she really did throw her life away for nothing.
“Anything.” She finally answers, shaking her head. “This. Anything.”
“Yes you can.” He kisses her forehead, trying to understand. He grimaces when he sees the forlorn look on her face. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”
“I’m scared we won’t be able to - ”
“Won’t be able to what?” He interrupts, anxiety rising.
“Make it work.” She mumbles, pushing her face into his shoulder.
“We’ll make it work, Addie.”
“How?” She asks meekly.
“We just will.” He runs his hands through her hair, gently cradling the vibrant strands of auburn as they catch off the sunlight spilling through his window. “One day at a time, remember?”
“Right.” She sighs.
“Addison.” He takes a deep breath. “It might not be easy, but this will work. I won’t let it not work.”
She nods against his chest, hoping he means it. They stand there in silence for a few minutes, holding onto one another.
“Have you eaten anything yet?” He finally asks.
“No, but I’m not - ”
“Yes, you are. You’re hungry.” He insists. “And you’re going to eat.” He laces his fingers through hers, and drags her towards the kitchen.
“I’ll order Chinese food, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And you’ll eat something, even if it’s only a little something.”
“I thought I was the bossy one.” She smirks.
“You are.” He taps her on the nose, “but I’m the argumentative one.”
~*~*~*~*~
“Hey!” She gripes when he takes some orange chicken off her plate.
He smirks. “This from the woman who said she wasn’t hungry.”
She smiles at a distant memory. “This isn’t med school, you know, when I’m trying to get some studying done and you steal food from me.”
“But it always worked that way.” He protests. “I took your orange chicken, gave up a spring roll to Derek, and he always shared his chow mein with you. It always worked out. Even Derek would have remembered that.” He laughs, but feels her stiffen against him. She leans forward and sets her plate down on the end table.
“Oh, Addie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up - ”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” She murmurs hastily.
“It’s not fine. I hurt you when I said that.” He shakes his head hard, frustrated at himself for saying something so inconsiderate. “You aren’t supposed to hurt people you care about.”
She looks up at him and tears are brimming in her eyes and clinging to her eyelashes. And now he knows he’s just made it worse.
“But I - I hurt Derek though.” She whispers quietly.
“You didn’t mean to.” He says quickly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“I had an affair.” She sniffs. “It’s not like I forgot his birthday or told him that I hated him. I actually cheated on him. What the hell is the matter with me?”
“Addison - ”
“No, I - why, how could I possibly do that? I am not the kind of person who commits adultery. How could I be so heartless?”
“You were lonely, Addie. He wasn’t there and it…just happened.”
“I wasn’t thinking. I’m a fucking doctor - one of the best neonatal surgeons in the country and I wasn’t thinking.”
He sighs. “Sometimes people do desperate things to attract attention.”
“Yeah, like talking it about it or fighting - or, I don’t know, things that don’t involve ending up naked with your husband’s best friend. I wanted him to care, but I didn’t want him to start noticing by finding us between the sheets together. And it’s not like I wasn’t busy either. We were both busy. But I tried - ” her voice cracks, “I tried so hard, but he was just…indifferent.”
“It’s not your fault he was indifferent.”
“No, no, Mark, it is. I had my share of long and inconveniently timed surgeries, because it’s not like babies really cared whether or not I was trying to spend time with my husband. But how could he just stop caring? What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why did he stop?”
“Because…I don’t know, but he’s stupid for stopping.”
“But maybe if I - ”
“You can’t worry about the ‘ifs’, Addie. I don’t know why he started becoming so absent, but it wasn’t anything you did. There’s nothing you could have done that would have explained his indifference. You’re Addison - you’re beautiful, smart, competitive, and a whole lot of other emotions that scare the crap out of me, but anyone who can just ignore you like that doesn’t deserve you.”
She feels her face flush, but shudders. “He wasn’t always indifferent. We were happy in the beginning. We were happy and in love and we cared about one another. But then he just stopped. And I was lonely and I missed him. I still miss him. I still lo-” She stops before the actual word comes out, and looks up in horror. “Oh God, now I’m hurting your feelings - ”
“I’m fine.” He pulls her against him. “I don’t have feelings, remember?”
“Yes you do.” Her cheeks feel hot and it takes her a second to realize it’s from the tears streaking down them. “Just putting up with me shows how much you care.”
“I do.” He murmurs, attempting to wipe away her tears with his thumbs. “And I like putting up with you.”
“I’m going to stop crying, I swear.”
“Addison - ”
“No, I’m happy. See? I’m happy.” She smiles through fiercely gritted teeth, and he almost laughs at her facial expression. She really is trying, but the corners of her mouth are still frowning, her eyes are overflowing with more tears, and she’s just about anything but happy.
“No, you’re not.”
She doesn’t bother to argue, because really, what the hell is the point anymore? She’s hurting and he knows it. Both his arms surround her, and she bites down hard on her lower lip to keep from sobbing. The tears that have been gathering on her lashes drop down slowly, splashing onto his shirt.
“What can I do to make you happy?”
“What?”
“I don’t expect you to stop missing him or caring about him. But what can I do right now to make you feel better?”
She presses her face harder into his chest. “Just this.” She murmurs.
“Just this.” He echoes, and pulls her closer, wiping at the remaining tears that have dried along her cheeks and jawbone. She trembles, and he murmurs quietly, “I wish I could do more.”
“It’s okay.” She whispers. She takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly, letting the bad air out. The pain is going to subside eventually, she decides, and the guilt will wear itself out. She scoots into his lap, and he brushes an auburn lock away from her eyes. He cups her face in his hands, and kisses her so softly that it takes her by surprise and she closes her eyes. She cuddles against him, tucking her head in between his shoulder and neck. “This is enough, Mark.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Notes: Part 7 is coming soon, possibly tonight. It's just that Calla is being super lazy right now and doesn't feel like editing it. Is anyone else suffering from Grey's Anatomy withdrawls? Because I definitely am.